


Welcome Home

by Macci_Mellow, Tedah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Don't copy to other sites, H/D Owlpost Holiday Fest, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Substance abuse (potions), unhealthy eating habits, unhealthy sleeping patterns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21043760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macci_Mellow/pseuds/Macci_Mellow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedah/pseuds/Tedah
Summary: Draco has been on the run for a very long time but does he really know what he’s running from and what he’s running towards?After the end of the war there's only one imperative pushing Draco Malfoy forward: the memory of the grip of his mother's hands and a desperate plea "Run!"





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vaysh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaysh/gifts).
  * A translation of [Welcome Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9701378) by [Macci_Mellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macci_Mellow/pseuds/Macci_Mellow). 

> This is my first venture into translating. It's been fun to finally explore the local fandom and pick something out. Navigating the stylistic quirks and working out how to bring them organically into another language was certainly a challenge and I hope my work makes justice to the original material.
> 
> This is then a twofold gift, first to Vaysh and second to Macci_Mellow, I hope your story gets the love it deserves.
> 
> Thank you also to Etalice for the beta, you are a champion.
> 
> For details about the tagged unhealthy eating+sleeping, substance abuse and non con check the end notes.

His heart was hammering in his chest when he stopped to catch his breath, but he never seemed to be able to get enough air in his lungs. Sweaty and exhausted, he glanced behind himself, searching the undergrowth, but there was nothing except the chirping of birds and the whisper of wind between the leaves. The woods were always his favourite way to escape.

With one last deep breath, Draco headed towards the path trying not to trip on his own feet.

They got close this time, he admitted bitterly, this time they almost caught him. When his warning spells had gone off, Draco found himself scrambling to gather his things and hurry out the window. Luckily, after the fifth shack, when he’d had to flee from the third floor climbing hastily on the ledge, he’d had a steadfast rule: no elevated floors.

The situation hadn’t gotten any better. This time it had taken them four days to find him, the time between one hideout and the next was getting shorter and shorter as time went on.

Draco tried to calm his wheezing breath as he proceeded with unsteady steps along back roads, ready to dive into the untouched woods of the countryside. When he reached a crossroads, he picked randomly and he headed towards a small town he could see far ahead of him. It would be a two days walk at least. Not that he wasn’t used to it. That was his life now.

As his heartbeat slowed down after the run, Draco found himself thinking about when Voldemort was defeated, the price everyone had to pay for having been, out of choice or duty, on his side. It hadn’t been any different for him. When the Aurors broke into Malfoy Manor, his father got arrested and his mother made him flee through corridors in the Manor not even him had been familiar with, before getting caught herself.

Since then, he’d been on the run, he didn’t even know how long it had been. Even taking all necessary precautions, never staying long in the same place, he knew the Aurors were looking for him and he had to be aware at all times, sleep little, and always be ready to run.

Run, run and run again. There was nothing else in his life.

He was so exhausted that sometimes he wondered what the point of fleeing was. Azkaban didn’t seem so bad, compared to what he had to deal with day in and day out. He’d even waited for the Aurors a couple of times, staring at the door, hoping to be arrested, to stop living like this. But every time the wish arose, the memory of his mother’s trembling hands pushing him as she told him to run away was like a poison preventing him from thinking clearly.

It was a rule written in his DNA, follow that directive, the last words Narcissa ever spoke to him. Probably the last they’d ever share for the rest of their lives. Draco wondered every day whether she was still alive, and his father, or if they’d received the kiss, or if they’d been executed with no preamble. 

Alone, isolated, he could do nothing but breathe and carry on, hoping that sooner or later something would change. Who knows, he thought bitterly, maybe he’d die of hunger one day. Even death would be liberating at that point.

* * *

When he reached the new town it looked just like all the other towns he’d seen. The buildings were grey and dull, the humidity dampened the asphalt, there was nothing but houses as far as the eye could see. He followed the pavement with aching feet and cracking bones. He was so tired he could barely stand so his first priority was to look for shelter and rest a while.

He walked into the first hotel he could find and paid cash, or what the woman at the reception assumed was cash. Draco had run out of money months ago and he was forced to transfigure objects to pay for food. Thank Merlin the woman was easily suggestible and she walked him to an anonymous room. It smelled of roses and for a moment, he felt like a kid again, walking out in the garden where Mother had planted infinite roses.

He missed home terribly, and he missed his mother.

“Thank you,” he murmured with a tired voice before dismissing the woman. He didn’t even bother taking off his clothes, he threw himself on the bed and fell asleep instantly.

* * *

He didn’t know how many hours had passed but when he’d walked in it was almost dawn, now as he woke up it was pitch dark outside. When he tried to move, his body protested with rending pain and his stomach gave an insistent rumble.

When was the last time he ate? He managed to sit up in bed and stretch his aching muscles before looking around, still sleep addled. He’d been dreaming of roses and woke up in the dark. His heart ached for a long minute as his throat closed up with longing, but he couldn’t cave. He had to keep running. He fought back the tears and walked downstairs to look for something to eat. Luckily the establishment offered dinner so he ate everything he could fit in his mouth until he felt close to exploding. When he walked back to his room his body was sated but he hadn’t compensated even a tenth of his infinite exhaustion.

He barely had time to reset the wards before collapsing on the bed and sleep for what felt like barely a minute. It was five a.m. when the warnings went off and he shot up in bed, as confused as ever. He looked for his bag, gathered it up with shaking hands, his body slow. He usually acted out of instinct, out of habit, but this time it was different. When he reached the window, as soon as he touched the frame, ready to open the panes, the smell of roses overtook him. A whirlwind crashed inside his head and he realised he was more tired than his body was, far more than anyone his age should have been.

He couldn’t go on.

So he didn’t. 

He couldn’t move a single muscle until the door opened revealing the Auror there, wand drawn. He turned to face him, eye to eye, and his heart jumped in his throat. Harry Potter was at the door, his wand aimed at the room and a stern expression on his face. His jaw set as soon as he saw Draco and his eyes darted around. Draco barely had time to realise that one of the Aurors hunting him was none other than his classmate, the vanquisher of the Dark Lord, the one who saved him from one destiny and sentenced him to another.

They remained frozen for a long moment, as if they had to decide how to move. Then Harry jumped into action.

“You’re under arrest.”

Draco counted three seconds before walking away from the window raising his hands.

Somehow he thought that being captured would give him some kind of relief, but now that he was there, and it was Harry Potter capturing him, he only felt like crying like a child. Harry walked up to him with sharp steps, sequestered his wand and grabbed his hand to twist his arm and pin it behind his back, he did the same with the other and in a second Draco was immobilized.

“We have to go,” he said with some urgency, pushing him.

Draco was about to head for the stairs put Harry pushed him in the opposite direction, towards the emergency exit. He pushed again and Draco complied. They took the stairs in silence, Harry put Draco in front but he could feel the hands tight on his wrists to prevent any escape attempt. When they reached the ground, Harry pulled him towards the street and Draco just couldn’t understand.

“Shouldn’t you be bringing me to a fireplace or a portkey?” He questioned.

Harry gave him a nervous glance before looking around cautiously. Then, as if deciding the coast was clear, pushed him towards an alley.

“You’re being followed by Death Eaters,” he replied quickly “They’re just small divided cells but they’re giving us trouble. In these isolated areas, it’s dangerous to find a good connection to the Ministry we have to head north.” He pushed Draco against a wall until his back hit it. In a blink, Draco saw Harry place a hand on his chest, two moments later they were apparating.

They appeared in the middle of nowhere. 

There was nothing but wide expanses of grass and a few abandoned houses here and there as far as the eye could see, some were renovated, some falling to pieces. Harry lead Draco towards a renovated one and unlocked the door with a spell. The smell of roses had barely left Draco’s nose that he had to contend with the smell of dust and stale air. He coughed when the dust got in his throat. Harry roughly shoved him inside and shut the door behind himself. He looked out of the window as if looking for someone, but when he found nobody, he seemed to imperceptibly relax. When he looked back at Draco, his green eyes studied him, as if trying to decide the next move. Draco put in the effort to sneer at him.

“Are you going to get a promotion for catching me?” He asked. “Is there a bounty on my head? How much am I worth?” Harry didn’t seem to find it funny

“We leave at dawn, we’ll take public transport,” he informed him.

Draco shrugged, finally inspecting his surroundings. Even though it had been repainted outside, the internal walls were painted a dull yellow and the furniture was big and sturdy, made of old wood. The bed was so high he had to jump to sit on it.

“I’ll take the bed,” he declared confidently. “You can sleep on the floor.”

Harry rolled his eyes and slowly made his way around the house, sliding from door to door, from window to window casting spells Draco had never heard of. When he finally made his way back to him, he looked visibly more relaxed.

“There’s a shower if you need. The bathroom has no windows in case you were thinking about running.”

Draco tightened his lips “Brilliant,” he shot back sarcastically. Harry glowered and opened his mouth, ready to say something, but he thought better of it.

“Take a shower,” he insisted. “How long has it been since the last? You look terrible.”

Draco took in the situation. He was in a house in the middle of nowhere in the company of Harry Potter, who’d just arrested him, but for some weird reason, he still felt like he was on the run. It made him almost break into hysterical laughter. He raised one shoulder with an amused smile and nodded towards his bound hands.

“You’ll have to untie me though, or maybe you want to wash me yourself? In that case, I’ll advise you to be very thorough washing every part of my body, as you can imagine it’s been several days since my last decent shower.” He even threw in a wink, but Harry didn’t seem impressed by his comment. He stood still, pondering his options. After a moment, he pulled out his wand and loosened the knots, though not before immobilizing Draco again. He dragged him to the bathroom.

“Call when you’re done,” he hissed before locking the door from the outside.

Draco surveyed his surroundings in a fruitless search for windows, trying to understand what had happened in the past half hour. It was… Absurd. All Draco had gone through in the last year was absurd, but this definitely took the cake.

He explored the bathroom circumspect in an instinctive search for a way to escape but Harry was right, the bathroom had no access to the outside, moreover, without his wand Draco was just a man like any other who couldn’t destroy walls by headbutting them. It didn’t matter how hard headed he was. He decided that actually taking that shower wouldn’t kill him so he turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower. The water started flowing and after what felt like a lifetime it eventually became warm, Draco put his head under the spray like a baptism. It was like breathing again for the first time. For the first time after months, that shower wasn’t just a quick rinse to be ready in case someone came after him. It was actually washing himself, and he could take as long as he pleased. While he gently rubbed his aching shoulder, he thought about Harry’s presence on the other side of the wall and found a new feeling making way in his chest. Despite everything, it was something warm and nostalgic.

It was the feeling of not being alone anymore.

That thought caught him entirely unaware. It was like ten people punched him in the stomach at once. When this time the tears reached his eyes, there was no way to stop them. He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle the sobs getting higher and higher. He waited out the pain, relief, and desperation, covered only by the sound of the shower running.

It took at least an hour before he managed to look acceptable enough to go back to the room, to Harry, who’d left him clean clothes on the bed. Harry was standing at the window, staring out, a part of Draco imagined it was to give him a modicum of privacy as he got changed more than actual professional diligence. When he was dressed, Draco climbed on the bed and considered going to sleep right there, without even saying goodnight, but Harry walked up to him opening a pouch hanging from his belt and taking out a sandwich.

“Eat something,” he ordered. “You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”

Even though he could still feel the irritation of his eyes from crying, Draco almost laughed, feeling his stomach clench at the strong smell of ham. He took the sandwich and started eating, trying not to let Harry see how hungry he truly was. Harry kept staring at him, and Draco pointedly raised an eyebrow from time to time as if to ask what he was looking at. 

Then, suddenly, Harry asked, “How are you?”

Draco felt the bite of sandwich scratch his throat. There was concern in his voice as if in that situation it wasn’t necessary to pretend to be the bad Auror who caught him and for five minutes it could be just… the two of them.

But it had never been just the two of them, Harry had always been the acclaimed hero and Draco the spoiled brat who 

he was the acclaimed hero. They’d fought each other their entire lives and now they were on opposite sides of life: Auror and criminal. As he searched Harry’s eyes, Draco discovered his face was familiar, not just because he’d seen it for six years, but because he’d missed it. He lowered the sandwich and averted his eyes.

“I’m peachy, can’t you tell?” he tried to rebuff, but he couldn’t infuse it with even a smidge of his usual irony. Harry raised his shoulders and carefully sat on the bed.

“We have to leave early tomorrow,” he said with a strange gentle tone. “Try to rest a bit, I’ll keep an eye on you.”

It was a comfort, not a threat. Draco raised his gaze back to his face, showing all of his confusion but Harry stood up, going back to the window. They didn’t say anything else, Draco slid under the covers and for the first once in a long time he actually slept.

* * *

The following morning, they left bright and early. Harry didn’t tie his hands again, but he kept Draco close with a hand, the other steady on his wand. He apparated them in a chaotic city, full of people, Draco’s first instinct had been to run and hide. Even though the tip of Harry’s wand kept poking him in the ribs his fingers didn’t seem to grip harder than strictly necessary. He could have ripped his arm away and run, but that would have been reckless and stupid: he didn’t have his bag or his wand, this time it would have been a death sentence by hunger or cold. It had never been said that a Malfoy died that way, even though he’d gotten pretty close a few times. What really bothered Draco was that Harry had to have guessed the truth: Draco wasn’t going to run because he was so damn tired of doing that. What upset him the most when he woke up that morning was the devastating relief at not waking up alone… The idea of leaving and being alone again was far more unbearable than being on the lam, even though the first lead to Azkaban, confinement, and never being happy again.

They walked without any apparent goal. They changed route several times and stopped only to get something to eat. At dusk, Harry took him to a seedy motel where the man at the front desk winked at them with a knowing smile. When they got to their room Draco stopped at the door, an amused smile on his face and a sensation of lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Now I understand, you plan on taking advantage of me,” he exclaimed. “That explains a lot.”

Harry turned around with a horrified expression, ready to argue, but as soon as he saw his ironic smile, it faded into confused relief. He gave him a brief smile

“Shut up and get ready to sleep,” he told him with a tone that didn’t really mean to be hard. It wasn’t. Draco frowned.

“Do you ever sleep?” he asked.

“I have my ways.” Harry shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’m not tired.”

“You’ve been awake for 48 hours.”

“I’ve been awake for four days,” Harry corrected him.

Draco opened his mouth disconcerted. Nothing could indicate that Harry hadn’t been sleeping in four days, but he had no reason not to believe him. Then his eyes fell on the pouch he always carried and a thought made its way in his mind.

“A potion!”

“Auror standard issue.” Harry shrugged “We can stay awake without feeling tired for two weeks minimum.”

“Yes, but after that, you risk serious damage, Potter,” Draco rebutted “You shouldn’t abuse it! The brain chemistry...”

Harry’s glare shut him up effectively, there was an echo of a faraway anger in his eyes.

“I’m doing what I have to,” he stated with a hard edge in his voice. “Now sleep. When you’re safe, that’s when I’ll be able to sleep too.”

Draco blinked, he wasn’t sure he understood but he didn’t argue. He reached the bed and slid under the covers. Harry sat down next to him, pulled out a book and started leafing through it as Draco fell asleep. It was odd, falling asleep to the sound of turning pages, his breathing, his presence. It was strange, the memory of Harry’s voice, more delicate than a lullaby.

he’d said

* * *

“You should really try and sleep a little,” Draco tried with just a hint of concern in his voice. Just a hint though. Harry pretended not to hear when he fixed his pouch to his hip.

“We’re already late, let’s move.” Harry pointed his wand against him like it was routine and grabbed his arm with a serious face. They made their way down, back to the street, before the sun had properly risen.

“Who’s after us?” Draco asked suddenly, just to fill the silence, broken only by their hasty steps “Is it Avery? He never liked me that one.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry whispered, but there was no anger in it, more like infinite patience.

“Or McTavish, that Irish bastard checked me out more than once, I had to keep him at arm’s length or Merlin knows where I would have ended up.”

Harry sighed “Do you plan on talking all the way there?”

“You don’t?” Draco shot back, a tense note in his voice that he swallowed behind a cheeky smile. “From what I gather we have a long way to go. Do you really plan of giving me the silent treatment the whole time?”

“Malfoy, do you even realise the situation you’re in?” Harry argued as if speaking to a child. Draco felt the anger mount. Who did he think he was asking? Draco? Who hadn’t eaten in days, slept even less and… hadn’t had a proper conversation in months? He fell quiet, already tasting the kiss of a nice dementor sucking the soul from his mouth. They walked quietly for over an hour, until Harry apparated them in another dull place, lost in the middle of nowhere. There he hesitated, leaving Draco free from the grip of his fingers on his arm for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, apparently honestly contrite “but you have to be careful what you say, measure your words. If they’d heard us...”

“Doesn’t matter,” Draco dismissed him, “you want me to be quiet? I’ll be quiet”

Harry tightened his lips and didn’t reply, he just took his usual position. There was no wand aimed Draco’s way this time. They walked for a while until they stopped at a nondescript pub.

“Let’s eat,” Harry decided. Draco shrugged

“Are you planning on keeping this up until we get there?” Draco just looked at him as an answer. The silence was starting to wear Harry out, it was evident. On his forehead, there was a vein pulsing with the beat of his heart.

They walked in and Harry ordered for both of them. When they sat down Harry pushed him to the corner and sat next to him. Every move was calculated to cut him off from any escape route, Harry needed to have everything under control. Before speaking, he waited for the waitress to bring them two sandwiches stacked with everything they had in the kitchen. Draco didn’t waste a moment before digging in and the flavourful food softened his mood a little. Just a little.

“You’re angry,” Harry noticed with a sigh “You do realise there is no point holding a grudge while I have you in custody, yes?”

Draco clenched his jaw, but he made a point of chewing and swallowing “And you do realise that I haven’t spoken with anyone in months?” he retorted, “I’m not asking you to set me free, just to have a conversation. Is that too much?” He didn’t want it to sound pleading but it was inevitable. He’d fallen so far in those months that begging for a bit of attention from Harry Potter didn’t seem so shameful. If he was bound to get his brain scrambled by someone, he was almost relieved it was going to be Harry his executioner. Harry kept quiet for a long moment next to him and then...

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Draco was sure history had never seen an Auror apologise to their arrest.

“Although if you wanted to set me free, I wouldn’t...”

“Don’t push your luck,” Harry replied “Alright, let’s talk. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know how to set up a conversation from nothing,” Draco shot back defensively.

“You’ve got nothing you want to ask me?”

“Will you answer truthfully?”

“As much as I can,” Harry promised.

Draco studied him for a long moment and then asked the one thing his heart ached to know ever since he made his way through the forest surrounding the Manor “How are my parents?”

No answer was necessary, Harry’s eyes darkening sufficed. Draco went back to his sandwich; suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore but he made an effort to finish eating.

“The lovebirds?” He asked again, just to change the subject.

“Malfoy....” Harry murmured “Your parents...”

“I changed topic. See? Apparently I’m able, who would have thought. So how are the lovebirds?”

Harry tightened his lips before replying “They’re alright. They live together now.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

Draco put on a cheeky smile “Now that you’re famous you can do much better, uh?” he winked. It was Harry’s turn to change subject.

“Did you hear McGonagall is now headmistress at Hogwarts?”

“Good for her,” Draco murmured, a stab of pain in his stomach at the sound of the word: Hogwarts. It felt so much like “home” that it hurt.

“Do you have news of Zabini? Nott? Crabbe? Goyle?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing of consequence. They’re getting on with life.”

Draco gave him a tight smile. Of course, they were getting on with life, their parents had never been directly involved in the cause, and neither had they. Draco still had the mark branded on his arm. He’d tried to rip it away, scratch it, curse it. Nothing worked.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked at one point.

Draco kept staring into nothing as he drank some water “A nice naked woman. I miss naked women. You never told me how you came to give up yours.” He smiled, challenging him to keep up the pretence but Harry didn’t bite. In his eyes, there was pity all of a sudden.

“Malfoy...” he whispered, “How are you?”

As if he didn’t know. As if his skinny arms, sunken eyes and messed up life weren’t answer enough. Draco understood that question went beyond the obvious, the pity and lack of delicacy. It was concern. Harry Potter, aware of the condition he was in, asked how he was, to let him know he cared. Draco couldn’t lie to him, laugh and joke, or goad him. He couldn’t tease him or steer the conversation away. He bit into the sandwich just to have something to do. When he swallowed he struggled and that’s when he realised his throat had closed up, and his eyes were burning. He turned to look at the street, watch people pass by, to distract himself.

“So you became an Auror,” he commented when he felt calm again, “I thought there was some kind of training to do before.”

“Six years of constant attacks from the psychopath of the century counted for something.”

“It’s not like you to take advantage,” Draco blurted out.

Harry’s eyes glinted behind the lenses “I didn’t have all that time to waste,” he replied, but it felt like only part of the whole story. Draco wondered if there was a reason why it had been Harry to hunt him. He chased the thought away giving his sandwich another bite.

“So, what are our plans?”

Harry poured him a glass of water “Head north. I know someone who can grant us safe passage.”

“What’s waiting for me once I get home?”

Harry’s eyes darkened “Better not to think about it now,” he cut it short “Hurry up and finish eating.”

When they walked out the sun was setting at the horizon and the bright red of the sky made Draco feel as calm as ever. It wasn’t the end of another pathetic day spent on his own between hunger and fear. In that moment he felt that, if in a week there was death waiting for him, he’d hang onto these moments spent with Harry as his one last happy thought. It was pathetic, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

“You’re still an idiot,” he murmured to brighten the mood, “in your shoes I would have milked my fame to the last drop. You really are a fool, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “When I hand you over I’ll go enjoy life, promise.”

“Good, Potter, that’s the spirit.”

They shared a smile and kept going towards the next shack.

* * *

Draco woke suddenly, with his heart pounding in his chest. He found himself pinned to the mattress by strong hands and heard Harry’s voice say “Relax, it was just a nightmare!”

It was. Draco realised he was still fighting to get up, and when Harry’s hands loosened their grip, he could barely sit up without throwing up. Harry pulled back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Are you ok? What were you dreaming about? You seem upset...”

Draco raised his gaze on Harry and got lost in his eyes. Counting that one it made six nights he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep and the exhaustion was starting to show in the redness of his eyes. Apart from that, he seemed to be doing alright. He didn’t look like in Draco’s dream, cold, still and… covered in blood. He’d dreamed he was killing Harry Potter and at the same time running to try and save him. They were two parts of him, both filled to the brim with fear.

What if… What if he hugged him? Would have Harry taken it as an attack? Or maybe he’d find it pathetic. Harry’s warm hand slid through his hair, matted with sweat 

“Are you a little better?” Draco nodded, still out of breath.

“Do you want some water?” Draco nodded again. While he drank, he tried to shake off the fear but it clung to him, thick as ever, chilling the blood in his veins, making him choke.

“When I’m dead, I want you to destroy Malfoy Manor,” he murmured apropos nothing.

Harry’s eyes flashed in response. “Malfoy, I don’t...”

“The Malfoy family will be gone. I want it to be erased. Tear it down, I don’t want it to be used by the next homicidal psychopath. Build something good over it. A homeless shelter or something of that sort.”

“Malfoy,” Harry interjected again, his voice hard and unyielding. “Stop speaking like that. You’re not about to die.”

“Life in prison or a dementor’s kiss, it’s not that much different.” He glanced at him “Whatever way you look at it, Potter, my family line ends with me. I don’t want the place I grew up in to be lived in by someone else. I want it to disappear with me. Please...” His voice broke “That’s all I ask.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Don’t you want me to save anything?” he asked.

“I imagine you would have no use for an oil painting of my family in your basement, so no. I don’t want anything saved. Destroy everything.”

“Are you sure?” Harry tried again quietly “Maybe one day you could get out and...”

“Potter...” Draco cut him off again looking at him with doleful eyes “don’t make me beg. I’ve already humiliated myself enough in front of you for one day.”

Harry tightened his lips as if he was keeping himself from arguing that it wasn’t true, but in the end, he just nodded solemnly. 

“Now sleep a little while more, though. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.”

Draco nodded and got comfortable between the sheets. In the silence of that new intimacy, the word “Thanks” traitorously escaped from his lips. He didn’t understand whether Harry had heard him or not because he was already falling back into a deep dreamless sleep.

* * *

Something was wrong, Draco could tell. Draco Malfoy had said goodbye to his former life so suddenly that a part of him couldn’t believe he was on the lam, running, without a home where to return eventually.

Then Harry Potter showed up, and it had been him the one to arrest him. It could have been anyone, truly anyone else, but since it had been him to make the arrest Draco Malfoy couldn’t quite compute. He was kind. Somewhere, in the manual of cohabitation between fugitive and pursuer, it must be written: avoid kindness. Maybe this didn’t apply to old school mates from opposite sides of the tracks, but way too often Draco Malfoy found himself having to deal with the overwhelming sense of relief that overcame him every time he turned around and found Harry still there.

Harry didn’t even keep him in hand or at wand point anymore, but Draco still had the feeling that, if he’d dared make a wrong step Harry would have captured him again in a matter of seconds. Not just because Harry was good at his job, no, there was something else driving him. Harry was determined. Determined to take him to the Ministry, have him processed and sentenced.

So, ultimately, Draco shouldn’t have felt anything when he was the victim of his kindness. He made an effort not to feel anything but every time Harry dragged him to a pub or to a hotel, just to have him eat and sleep decently, every time he stayed awake to keep watch, every time they ran from the Death Eaters after them… Draco felt safe.

It was wrong on so many levels Draco didn’t even know where to start to list them. In a month time probably, his brain was doomed to be scrambled by a dementor’s kiss and there he was studying the glances he threw Harry, trying not to smile at him, wielding arrogance as a weapon in order not to rely on him to find comfort.

“You hungry?”

“No.”

“You haven’t eaten anything since last night, you should have something.”

Draco shook his head “How much longer? Are we there yet?”

Something gloomy flashed in Harry’s eyes “We can’t just apparate there, we need to muddle our tracks.”

“Fine, I get it,” Draco retorted. “But waiting to be handed over is worse than the actual act. Let’s get a move on, alright? You know, rip the band-aid off.”

“Are you in a bad mood, Malfoy?”

He was. The dream from the previous night still clung to him and that fear didn’t want to pass. “You could always leave me to the Death Eaters. They’ll finish the job, my body will end up in a ditch somewhere but you’ll be free to go back to your life and...” He didn’t get to finish because Harry’s hand shoved him into a wall. Draco barely had time to whine from the pain before all of his complaints died on his tongue as he found his reflection in Harry’s eyes. Anger was only the most evident of the thousands of emotions swirling without respite behind those burning eyes.

“If you say something idiotic like that again, I will hurt you so much you will wish you were dead,” Harry hissed as the hand pinning him to the wall trembled with the effort not to hit him “Am I understood?”

Draco tightened his lips “Potter...” he murmured tiredly, “What do you think’s going to happen when we get there? Face reality, you’ll be the one to turn me over to my fate and you know what that entails.”

“And what do you reckon I should do? Let them take you? Let you be killed and dumped in a ditch and forget all about you?” His voice ended in a hiss “You think that’s what I want?”

“You arrested me,” Draco murmured in a breath. “And you’re handing me over to the authorities.”

Harry hesitated for a long minute with his hand still pushing against Draco’s chest. Then he freed him “Let’s go, we’re already late.” Draco followed him without a blink, hating the ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the hit he just took. It wasn’t normal to feel that way. It made no sense, just like the rest of his life. But his life was tragically... real.

* * *

Draco tripped on his own feet and realised he was about to fall when he was on the ground already. Usually, his reflexes weren’t that bad, they’d gotten much sharper due to his recent lifestyle change, but the struggle to get up made him realise something wasn’t right. Harry hauled him to his feet and cradled his face, searching his face carefully with eyes full of worry.

“You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” Draco replied, trying to get his balance. “We can continue.”

“You just fell down.”

“And I’ll fall again,” Draco slurred. “I can take care of myself.”

Harry let go of him suddenly and Draco almost fell right back down more because of the abrupt balance shift than anything else, but his tormentor used it to prove his point.

“We need to find a place where you can rest. And you need medicine.”

“You’re overreacting,” Draco argued before adding, complacently, “but I’ll never say no to a nap.” Especially when he could actually sleep, he’d recently rediscovered that simple pleasure. 

Harry held onto his arm and dragged him to a nearby lodging. He put him to bed only after he convinced him to shower and take something to bring down the fever. Draco was so tired he only remembered putting his head on the pillow, then nothing.

He woke up several hours later from a dreamless sleep. The room was dark and even if it was cold, he was covered in sweat. He felt his hair damp on the pillow and his back was soaked. He tried to move, change position and heard someone move in the room. His first instinct was to protect himself, he raised his arms to cover his head and chest, bracing for the hit. 

“It’s just me.” Harry’s voice came after a moment and his body relaxed immediately.

He collapsed, exhausted by the small spike of adrenaline, and with a click Harry turned the light on. In the gloom, he could only see half his face, and the reflection of his glasses prevented him from seeing his eyes. He tried speaking but his throat was too dry. Harry immediately brought a glass of water to his lips. Harry didn’t speak but Draco could feel the tension like electricity coursing through his body.

“I’m not about to fall dead,” he mumbled with what little strength he had. 

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, they were red and tired, clearly the potion was wearing off.

“I’ve been worse,” Draco doubled down in a whisper “once I slept in a cave and...”

Harry turned those big green eyes on him, they were almost hazel in the warm light of the abatjour. It was enough to shut him up.

“Rest.” It sounded like an order that didn’t broker any argument. If he’d continued to talk about it Harry was going to pop off, Draco could tell, so he swallowed hard, took another drink of water and sank his head back into the pillow. This time the only thing he remembered was Harry’s cool hand on his forehead.

What woke him up was the light of day. Draco blinked slowly before rubbing his hands down his face to wake up properly. He opened his eyes again, wondering where his jailer was before he noticed him sitting on the bed next to him, his back resting against the headboard… sleeping. 

Draco stared at him for a moment without really understanding what he was looking at. The bags under his eyes were so dark Harry looked like he was the one coming up from the debilitating fever. Draco sat up and crossed his legs, staring at Harry without daring to wake him up. The thought about escaping was so far away and deep in his head he paid it no mind, it was barely an echo. What was crystal clear were the images of Harry taking care of him in a thousand little ways, tirelessly. All of that for what? To bring him to his death sentence? No, there had to be something else. Draco was every minute more convinced. But what was it? What could bring Harry Potter to drag him around, worried if he ate or slept decently? Was it respect? When had he started hoping for something more? As hard as he tried to remember, Draco couldn’t pinpoint it. But it was clear now, that hope was alive, coursing through his veins, giving him lifeblood. It was a hope he hadn’t dared taste. 

He was so focused on Harry’s face that when he parted his lips Draco couldn’t help but stare at them. He did it for a instant that stretched to fit infinite time, so entranced he realised he’d moved only after the fact. 

He did it lightly, a whisper of a touch, almost non existent. Just to try. More than a press of lips it was barely a brush. It left Draco with a deep sense of unfinishedness, but the fact that Harry hadn’t woken up gave him new courage. The second touch was just as delicate, but he could feel the shape of Harry’s lips against his own. It was still unsatisfying but Harry grimaced and that made him desist from trying again. He pulled back and waited, his hands clasped together, waiting for his jailer to wake up. It didn’t take long, a wrong move and Harry’s eyes shot open, his hand flying out as if to grab him. When Harry’s fingers closed on his shoulder Draco managed to see a flash of all those emotions he could barely decipher. Only two came through clear: fear and relief.

“Did I fall asleep?” Harry whispered confused, his fingers tightening, as if gradually realising the danger of losing Draco.

“I told you that potion wasn’t healthy.”

Harry closed his eyes and fixed his glasses that were sitting askew on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.”

“Temperature is always lighter in the morning,” Harry considered “It’s probable the fever will come back tonight. You should keep resting but...”

“We can’t afford that,” Draco finished for him. “We’d get caught.”

Harry nodded but didn’t let go of his shoulder.

“Who are they, Harry? Who’s after us?”

A flash of fear passed over his face but Harry didn’t say anything, just relaxed his fingers and let go of Draco. 

“You’re all sweaty, take a shower. Let’s get moving before the fever comes back.”

Draco stared at him for a long moment, trying to decipher his behaviour, but then just shrugged. He wasn’t going to get anything out of him.

* * *

One morning Harry woke him up abruptly.

Draco had been sleeping so well, so deep, he found himself dressed and ready to leave before he was even awake all the way. The panic in Harry’s voice was the last memory before he saw the door handle start rattling. He saw Harry look around frantically, trying to find something to do, anything. Then he put his hand in his pouch and pulled out a folded piece of cloth Draco recognized with amazement. He barely had time to think “the invisibility cloak” that Harry threw it over him and ordered him to be quiet. He stepped forward and held onto his hand to keep him from running.

When the door opened two men burst into the room and searched it carefully before settling on Harry Potter, who carefully put on his most menacing expression.

“Rude!” He reprimanded. “Is this the way to enter someone else’s room?”

Draco stared at the men through the cloak covering him and he couldn’t recognise either. If they were death eaters, he’d never seen them, and they didn’t look like that bunch either. Too distinguished, they had too much of an air of superiority.

“Potter,” One of them started with a frown “Always one step ahead of us, uh?” he asked.

Harry’s fingers tightened around Draco’s wrist. He cleared his throat before replying “Yes, and he escaped.”

The man motioned for his companion to search the room and he did, thoroughly. The one standing at the door sized Harry up carefully.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Harry shrugged “Motels are the cheapest thing in town, if he had to be anywhere, this was the place to look for him.”

“Why was the door locked?”

Harry stiffened, but right then the other came back with a grim expression. “He’s not here, sir, I looked everywhere.”

The man looked back at Harry and gave him his most convincing smile “If you know anything...”

“I know as much as you do,” Harry cut in “I’m following the same tracks you do...” He took a small pause “I just do it better.”

For a moment Draco feared Harry was about to get punched, but the man must have realised Harry’s fame, or he had to admit the truth to those words, because he just shrugged and let it go.

Harry cleared his throat. “There’s clear indication he’s heading east,” he mentioned. “Care for a wager on who catches him first?”

The man’s eyes flashed and the other took his arm. “We have to go, sir, he can’t be far,” he murmured.

For a long moment, the two studied each other, then the man straightened his back and waved his goodbye slamming the door after himself. Draco and Harry stood still for a second, frozen, as if waiting for the door to open again and an entire team to storm in and arrest them both. After a few minutes Draco let the cloak slide off his shoulders and tried to meet Harry’s eyes, unsuccessfully.

“You covered for me,” he whispered.

Harry took the cloak off his hands and stored it in his pouch. “You need to hurry up, it’ll only take a day for them to realise I sent them on a wild goose chase. Are you all packed?”

Draco stood still like a salt statue. There were a thousand ideas making their way into his mind, a thousand things he hadn’t noticed. HIs wards always went off, as if to warn him, give him a chance to escape. Harry had found him when he wouldn’t run and dragged him away, on the run from something. It wasn’t death eaters like Harry had said. They were on the run from Aurors. Harry had been protecting him for much longer than Draco could comprehend.

“Why?” he asked in a quiet breath. “Why are you helping me?” How long had he been following him, warning him? And now Harry was exposing himself, putting everything on the line… for him.

Harry gave him a nervous look. “Head north, you’ll find a city with a plum coloured bell tower, find a man by the name Mathias McCorky, he’ll offer you safe haven, you can get back your strength.”

Draco couldn’t follow, he blinked taking a step back “Potter...” he gasped, but his last name felt so out of place that he could barely get it past his lips, when he tried again. “Harry...” it felt right on his tongue, right enough that Harry turned to him as if he’d been waiting for that moment for months.

“I bought you some time, but it’s not going to be enough if you don’t move,” he told him, trying to reason with him, then he took something out of his pouch and pressed it into his hands. “Here’s enough money to get there, when you arrive I’ll send more money to Mathias and you won’t have to worry about anything. You’ll be safe, Draco, trust me.”

Trust. That’s what he’d been feeling since they met again. That was what pushed him to stay with Harry even when he could have slipped away in the crowd and disappeared. He’d trusted Harry since the moment he’d broken into his room and pretended to arrest him in order to take him away from Aurors that would have actually taken him away to the darkest cell in Azkaban. Draco hoped he didn’t seem as desperate as he actually was, but it was a vain hope. Harry’s eyes lingered on his figure with tenderness and his lips stretched in a tired smile.

“Just one last effort,” he whispered “When you get there you won’t have anything left to fear, I promise.” But being on the lam wasn’t the worst of his problems, not anymore. The idea of losing Harry suddenly was much scarier than living that life again. Harry turned to push him out the door but when he did, he lowered his guard. Draco had just enough time to spot Harry’s wand peeking out from his pocket and grab it. Harry spun around quickly and found Draco levelling the wand at him. His expression didn’t change, he just slowly reached out like a parent trying to placate a child who’d gotten into something they shouldn’t have, but Draco was faster.

“Stupefy,” he whispered.

* * *

Draco was sitting on the chair in the safe house Harry had indicated. Mathias had fallen over himself to help when he’d seen Harry passed out. Draco had managed to convince the man to bring them to the hideout, promising he’d look after his saviour himself and, since then, he’d sat on the chair, with Harry passed out in bed. Ever since he’d stopped taking the potion Harry had started catching up on lost sleep and Draco waited patiently for him to wake up.

It took three days.

When Harry opened his eyes, his body had grown so stiff from the long sleep he seemed to be coming back from the dead.

“What happened?” he asked, confused. Then he saw Draco sitting in a corner, his legs crossed at the knee, his eyes sharp. He was still holding his wand. Harry caught on immediately and in an instant, his look grew hard.

“What did you do?” he asked. It sounded like an accusation.

Draco’s eyes flashed as a wry smile stretched his lips. “I stunned you,” he replied. “Felt great, I missed that.”

Harry squinted at him for a moment and then looked around, he seemed to be having a hard time understanding.

“You can’t keep me here,” he whispered “You’re only making your situation worse. You make it harder for me to help you like this.”

Draco didn’t want to reply that whatever required losing Harry couldn’t be defined help so he just shrugged. “I captured you, so if they get to me I’ll have a chip to bargain with. Isn’t it genius?” he gave a mirthless laugh.

Harry glared daggers at him and tried to get up only to realise he was tied to the bed. He looked at the ropes and then Draco, a confused frown on his face.

“I sleep at night,” Draco defended “And I didn’t know when you’d wake up.”

“How did you manage to get me here?”

Draco raised the wand with a mix of nostalgia and pride “Magic” he whispered, the word caressing his tongue sweetly “I levitated you under the invisibility cloak. It was a bit unrefined, I admit, but I had to improvise.”

Harry rolled his eyes “You sure did improvise” he accused “What’s the plan, now? Keep me prisoner? Continue running? This place was supposed to be a safe place for you, I could have kept the Aurors away from here, Draco. I had everything figured out, but you had to do it your way!” He closed his eyes and tugged against his restraints, trying uselessly to get free “You could have gone back to having a home.”

Draco felt his chest squeeze at the word home. The smell of roses, his mother’s smile, his room with all of his things, a familiar environment…

None of that mattered anymore.

He looked into Harry’s eyes and couldn’t come up with one lie or façade, so he went with the truth “You’re my home.” Saying it out loud was terrifying and freeing at the same time. He expected something, a laugh, a joke, some pity in the worst case scenario. Harry’s face was unreadable.

“Untie me,” he said, and something in his voice reassured Draco. He aimed the wand and murmured the spell. He rode the high of that spark of magic igniting inside him. It was an adrenaline rush, he closed his eyes, enjoying it for a moment before handing back the wand to Harry. When he opened his eyes again Harry was standing in front of him. He didn’t say anything. He set a hand on the hand holding the wand and took it back. Draco waited for Harry’s touch to retreat but when he heard the wand hit the floor Harry’s fingers were still on his own. Draco looked up at him 

“I need a shower,” Harry whispered, his eyes never leaving Draco for a second. It was an invitation.

Draco followed Harry into the bathroom, nervous as he’d ever been but confident in what he was doing. It felt strange to pull at the hem of Harry’s shirt, Draco’s body full of so many emotions he’d long forgotten: anticipation, happiness, uncertainty.... excitement. He avoided Harry’s gaze, trying to keep his hands from shaking, but Harry didn’t seem annoyed, instead he continued to undo button after button of Draco’s shirt. Then came the trousers. It was odd to undress someone else. Not that he’d never done it before, but it had been some time for sure. So much that Draco wasn’t sure how he was going to react. Harry must have picked up on his nervousness, because he placed a hand on his neck, brushing his cheek with his thumb, almost as if to reassure him. It didn’t do much, but Draco found himself contending with one more emotion: tenderness.

It was too much, everything and all at once, but that didn’t keep him from staring at Harry’s body wet from the shower’s spray. Only then he found the courage to study him. Despite the war, and his fugitive status, forcing them to grow up quicker than humanly possible, Draco remembered suddenly that they were both boys, barely even twenty.

Draco’s heart skipped a beat when he recognised the feeling… excitement.

His cock grew hard in a matter of moments and his face flushed red with embarrassment, but Harry didn’t seem to notice or mind, he just held his hand out to invite him in the shower. Draco took a deep breath but his legs ket trembling. Harry grabbed his hip, a little too hard, ready to hold him up if his knees gave out.

He didn’t say anything. There was nothing 

say.

Harry knew how difficult it must be for Draco to admit he needed help, that he wanted to be touched…

Standing there, naked, in front of Harry Potter, Draco could barely manage to breathe.

All his senses focused on the warm hand on his skin and when Harry leaned closer to reach for the sponge and lay it on his shoulder, the light pressure made him shiver. Harry let the sponge slide down his arm, and then back up, around the neck and down the other arm. 

The water streamed down their bodies and for Draco, the growing erection was nothing more than a slightly annoying footnote to everything else. Harry, taking care of him, washing away every fear with the pass of a sponge. It had been a nightmare, having to fear anything that breathed, without a moment of respite, hunted down like an animal. He couldn’t even afford to hope or let someone close enough to take his breath away with a caress.

But now he was safe, because he was with Harry. The moment the realisation hit, Draco felt his body slip into a quiet certainty and stopped trembling. Only then did Harry kiss him. It started out awkward, Draco felt like it was his first kiss again. It had been so much time that his lips had forgotten how to do it. But when Harry stepped closer, carefully, and Draco could feel Harry’s skin against his own before the cold tiles against his back, something inside him unlocked. They kissed, with exasperating languor, not daring anything more out of fear and reverence. Harry pulled back to take a deep breath and Draco realized that he was nervous too, caught between wanting Draco and trying not to scare him away.

it was almost funny.

Only then did Draco realise Harry was hard just like him, and for sure more tense. It was Draco’s turn to initiate the kiss. And this time the kiss was full of curiosity, trying to rediscover each other in that new context. Not schoolmates but neither enemies on the battlefield, or hunter and prey, they weren’t Saviour and saved…

Draco pulled back but didn’t open his eyes. He felt the water stream over his eyelids. When Harry’s warm lips brushed his neck Draco felt a shiver run through him.

His eyelids fluttered under the weight of the knowledge that this was really happening. He and Harry Potter were about to have sex in the shower somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

No, not nowhere, home. Wherever Harry was, there was home.

Harry tilted Draco’s head back and kissed him again. This time it was different, it was meaningful. It wasn’t awkward anymore, it wasn’t just curiosity, it was... need. Need for contact, for closeness, need to transmit everything that mattered. It wasn’t the desire, or the sex right then, it was just them. And it wasn’t the sensation of being alone and lost driving him, it was… It was Harry Potter. Draco had fallen in love with him.

Draco jumped when he felt the sponge trapped between them move and slide down his torso in a sure caress. It barely skipped his erection and slipped to the inside of his thigh, drawing an annoyed whine from him. He felt Harry’s smile against his lips. When the warm soft sponge pushed against his hard-on, the sound that escaped Draco’s lips was anything but virile. The onslaught of want almost killed him, literally. He completely forgot how to breathe, or live. He wanted Harry. He wanted him like he’d never wanted anyone else. He kissed Harry, with a newfound force, he pressed against him, against the sponge with a new urgency. 

Harry responded with equal enthusiasm and in a moment, everything turned frantic and confused. The sponge fell and Harry pushed up against him, pressing him between the wall and his own body and a new wave of desire enveloped them, their hardnesses sliding up against each other. A flash of pleasure invaded them, quick and cruel, leaving them breathless and barely able to stand.

Draco felt the sting of embarrassment warm his cheeks, did he already come? Was it already over…? Harry touched his lips against his in a light kiss and then pressed their foreheads together. Was it the humidity around making it hard to breathe or was it just them? Draco tried to come up with something to say but every thought that came to mind seemed worthless, only good to fill up the space. The only thing his heart called for was “Home”.

Now that he was so close to Harry, literally in his arms he realised he’d never felt so safe.

No, there was no need for words. It wasn’t the end, it was just the appetizer. He wanted to be held in those arms again, wanted to feel those hands on him everywhere and taste his kisses. Admitting that to himself, admitting that he loved Harry, that he wanted him, made that silence, that he was trying so hard to fill, important.

Harry tried to kiss him again, slowly this time, and when Draco parted his lips to deepen it, he took advantage. They kissed again, they kissed as if it was everything they needed to live. But the desire came back, stronger than before. It was possible, apparently.

They pulled back, to look each other in the eye and take a breath, it felt like a rollercoaster, edging closer to the end of the slow rise and anticipating the breakneck speed fall. 

Draco flopped on the bed, wet, naked and eager and Harry pressed up against him just as wet, naked, and eager. They got lost among the moans of pleasure. Draco clung to that new warmth with all his strength, making it his own, he feasted on it, trying to sate his unquenchable hunger for Harry. He’d never wanted or loved anyone that much. The pleasure filled him when Harry’s breath tickled his neck and their kisses became hungry and eager. He bit back a scream when it exploded inside him. He clung to Harry’s shoulders, burying his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the pungent smell of sweat. Harry Potter didn’t smell of roses… but he smelled of family.

* * *

“Hey.”

Draco woke up to a hand caressing his side. He opened his eyes to fall right into Harry’s. Without glasses, they were a weapon of mass destruction.

“Hey...”

“I didn’t want you to wake up without me.”

Draco frowned “Where are you going?”

Harry’s thumb drew small circles on Draco’s side. “I have things to do, but I’ll come back, I promise.”

Draco sat up. “What do you have to do?”

“First of all avoid adding kidnapping to the list of your charges,” Harry replied with a smile.

Draco took a deep breath. He knew that moment was coming. He’d been acting on instinct when he stunned him, it had been desperation pushing him, but now Harry was awake, he couldn’t keep him there forever. Merlin, he didn’t even know if he returned his feelings… A part of him, the insecure one, the scared part, whispered that Harry wasn’t coming back. What would be the point of coming back? They were nothing. But… Harry had protected him constantly, kept others from finding him, kept him safe, fed and allowed him to sleep. He couldn’t leave Draco now. It wasn’t like him. And yet he could, he should, a tiny voice whispered inside his mind. For a moment that whisper, that flickering knowledge broke his heart. He looked at Harry smiling at him and hated the fact that he understood how true that was. For him, coming back was dangerous, wrong.

“I’ll come back,” Harry whispered.

“Don’t,” Draco told him in a breath, barely believing his ears.

“Draco...”

He’d started speaking, might as well go for it. He was doing it for him. Draco sat up and threaded his fingers together.

“Don’t come back,” he said again “You and I… It can’t work. You’re and Auror, I’m a death eater. You’ve wasted enough time in this ill-advised attempt at protecting me and you don’t deserve to waste the rest of your life like this.”

“Don’t say that!” Harry’s anger came through loud and clear. The truth hurt.

“Not even you can save me,” Draco argued, “I will always be a criminal and yes, maybe right now I’m safe, but for how long? And I don’t care anyway, because you can’t and you shouldn’t waste your life on a lost cause.”

“You’re not a lost cause!” Harry could barely get the words out through the anger.

Draco cradled his face between his hands and he desperately wanted to kiss him “Please, Harry. Do it for me. Don’t come back,” he begged.

“You can’t ask me that.”

“I can. I am,” he whispered “I’m ok now, I can take care of myself. But I’ll never be happy knowing you’ve ruined your life for me. Don’t ask me to accept that.”

They were at an impasse, none of them was going to move from his position; protect the other at any cost. But Draco was ready for any sacrifice, he was in love, he was sure of it.

“I’m coming back,” Harry insisted, “whether you want me to or not.” 

Yes, he probably would. But Draco wasn’t about to let him ruin his life. He caressed his face and stole the taste of a last kiss. When they got up from the bed to say goodbye, at the door Harry looked like he knew something, Draco could read it in his eyes. Harry squeezed his hand hard enough to turn his fingers white.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he whispered “When I come back, see that you’re here.”

“Even if I ran you’d find me. Like you always did.”

“You can bet on that.”

They faced off like enemies and friends one last time. Then Harry let go of his hand, took two steps back and apparated.

Once he was alone, Draco went back to the bedroom and gathered his things. He gave one last look to the small chalet, their improvised love nest and said goodbye. He had new, fragile memories. They would have to be enough for the rest of his life.

* * *

He’d expected to get there, be recognised, taken into custody and shoved into a cell. Everything in three easy lapidary moves. But when he reached the Ministry, he had time to give his name, his reason to visit, look around and live a little in the nostalgia and the familiarity of a known environment. Two Aurors appeared after a while approaching at a relaxed pace but when they spotted him their jaw hit the floor.

Here we go, he thought as he offered up his wrists.

He had to wait, handcuffed, in line for a portkey. Getting arrested had turned out a lot less dramatic than he’d always imagined. He was led down a corridor, then another, bars at the windows, another corridor. Then he sat in a waiting room, not even that squalid, he’d seen worse. He wondered if the news had already spread. If Harry had heard yet. He hoped not. He hoped the news reached him only once things were inevitable. He waited for hours, so long that he started wondering if this was already torture.

When he saw his new permanent accomodation, he started missing the cave. The first meeting with a dementor drained him of all will to live. He fell to his knees, unable to think back to the last time he felt happy. He struggled to, tried to remember the smell of roses and the first kiss he shared with a sleeping Harry or their first real one. He clung to those memories and they were enough to get him back to his feet, but they couldn’t keep the deep sense of infinite sadness from taking roots inside him.

He woke up to the sound of rusty locks clicking. Draco jumped to his feet, ready to defend himself. It was instinctual by now. Two guards came in from the door and picked him up with no preamble, dragging him to a room where they pushed him into a chair. There we go, he thought, it’s time. What was it now? interrogation? Or maybe he was being sentenced already…

He sat there for around ten minutes before anyone showed up: a man around fifty came in, clearly in a hurry, sat down and put his briefcase on the table.

“Let’s make this quick.” He pulled out some papers from the briefcase and read them quietly for a long ten more minutes before addressing him. “How old are you?”

“I believe nineteen.”

The man raised an eyebrow “You believe?”

“I don’t know the date,” Draco admitted.

The man nodded, picked up the pen and jotted down a few notes on his papers then set them down.

“And how old were you when you took the mark?” The man’s eyes were sharp and attentive, they were studying him. Draco thought back to that day, the pain, the fear.

“Sixteen,” he whispered.

The man nodded thoughtfully “Did you ever assault or kill anyone? Commit any crime punishable by law, magic or muggle alike?”

That was the part Draco most hated. “No,” he replied and said it with conviction. He hadn’t killed Dumbledore, he’d never harmed anyone. His only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong family. He hated thinking about his family before, before any of it happened. His memories were like a movie, flashing in front of his eyes like a tornado. Only after did he realize it wasn’t nostalgia, it was magic.

He blinked and found himself staring at the man who’d just dug through his brain in search of a lie, or a hint of guilt… to find only sadness. The man gave him a sad smile, as if to apologise for the intrusion.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” the man started in a deep voice “Since you were a minor at the time of the marking and there is no evidence of active involvement in Tom Riddle’s crimes, I declare you not guilty.”

What?

“Your release will be immediate.”

Draco blinked so quickly his vision blurred for a moment “I don’t understand...” he murmured

The man grimaced “You’re free to go.”

“But...”

One of the guards came forward and manhandled him until he got up. Getting into Azkaban had been slow and boring, but when he found himself outside the fortress with the freezing air blowing in the holes of his worn-down shirt, his patched-up backpack on his shoulder, his only companion during long months on the run, Draco felt lost. He took a few unsure steps following the instinct that had pushed him to run without rest for an entire year, but there were only fumes left; there was nothing to run from anymore. He stopped on the road, looking around as if looking for any indication what direction to take.

The only thing on his mind was: home.

* * *

The Manor wasn’t the first place he thought about but by now Harry Potter probably hated him. He’d ran, turned himself in, given up after everything he’d done for him. Of course, he’d be furious. And in London, things would be different. Draco tried to convince himself that their love story started and finished in that motel room in that anonymous city. Standing in front of the Manor he felt like a stranger, even though the house was familiar, every last corner, now it looked cold. He forced himself to walk in anyway.

The first thing to hit him was the warmth. He stood stunned at the door, confused by that unusual change in temperature. Then he saw the clean floor, the polished furniture… the light. He closed the door behind himself and followed the light like a moth to the flame. The doors to the drawing room where he used to spend his days were open and he peeked in, unsure. Under the oil painting of his family was the fireplace, crackling, but what took Draco’s breath away was the man standing in front of the fire, staring into it deep in thought.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry turned around, caught off guard, then his eyes darkened. “What do you think?”

Draco looked around, more and more confused. Nothing made sense… nothing.

“How did you do it? How am I free?”

Harry’s eyes went black with anger “It wasn’t easy, but I had no other choice.”

“Harry, what...?”

“I wanted to clear your name first, spare you meeting the dementors and prison, not even a single day. But no, you had to do it your way, stubborn until the end. You’re unbelievable!” his lips tightened.

Standing at the door Draco only managed, “I’m sorry.”

Harry raised his eyes and his anger melted away, leaving space for a new emotion, that made Harry’s breath catch in his throat, “If I hadn’t managed to get you out, I would have lost you forever. I’m sorry is not enough.”

Draco felt his heart beat fast, too fast. Harry had saved him again and now he was in his home, he’d made it warm, welcoming and he was standing there, telling him how angry he was. Because he’d risked losing him. Draco dropped the backpack like he did after coming home from a year at Hogwarts, he’d throw the trunk in his room to run out and be with his parents.

“I’m home now,” he said, and that was enough.

Harry put the anger aside and crossed the room to take Draco’s face in his hands and kiss him with feelings so strong Draco could barely handle them. They pulled away with short breath.

“Welcome back,” Harry whispered.

He was back, for real…

Now he could dare to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Draco doesn't eat/sleep regularly while on the run and there's several references to it throughout, he gets better at it though.  
Harry pushes the limit of safety in his use of department issued stimulants and he eventually crashes.  
Draco kisses a sleeping Harry at one point.  
This is the end of the sensitive stuff.
> 
> Remember to leave a comment here, and if you really want to make someone's day go leave one on the original work too.


End file.
